


Slower

by MalikRuttingAssassinAss



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Altair has a slow brain, Anal Sex, Complete, Fingerfucking, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Male/Male, Malik has an odd sense of humour, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 12:46:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalikRuttingAssassinAss/pseuds/MalikRuttingAssassinAss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We have an option. The one thing we own is our minds. We all make mistakes; we must live with them… But our sexual preferences are our own decisions… Don't let the Master tell you what is good and what is bad…" Malik and Altair bear themselves to their most intimate of feelings, drawing each other into a night they hope to never regret. M/M Altair/Malik</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slower

“Perhaps instead of staring at the roof entrance, you should use it. By leaving. Now.” Altair’s face scrunched at the harsh tone thrown haphazardly in his general direction. He turned his hooded gaze towards the rafiq, meeting his scowl through the archway into the inner-bowels of the bureau.   
“And if I am to leave, would you hold no guilt if I am to be chased from here to the gates of Jerusalem..?”  
“Does the thought of doing anything so strenuous hurt your tiny mind, novice?” A quick, witty comeback, Altair admitted, but he wasn’t nearly good enough with his words to bite back just as fast;   
“No.” was his simple answer. And there it lay for the next few, silent, minutes as Malik leaned forward onto his counter, quill balanced between his fingers as he pointed it towards the Master Assassin.   
“You are testing my patience, Altair. This is an assassin bureau, this is my work and this-” he cut short to point at his own face with the end of his quill, “will be the last thing you will see if you do not tread carefully around my patience.” The rafiq warned. The Master Assassin waited further, not sure how to react to such a threat. It was an empty one, he was fully aware. Malik wouldn’t compromise the brotherhood by taking away the best damn assassin they had to offer, that was just suicide. Murder suicide, he supposed.   
“You must take a wife, all this pent-up frustration and energy is doing you no good-”  
“This pent-up frustration is from you and your reluctance to leave me in peace!” Malik paused to lower his head back to his map, waving his one hand as if to waft away his anger. “Besides, a woman is too soft and fragile to be on the receiving end of my appetite.” He said. There was a silence and Malik raised his head to look upon the gears turning behind Altair’s eyes. Perhaps he had said… too much..?   
“I cannot imagine you taking more than one woman, Malik. Perhaps you should look into finding a woman who has already been…” a prolonged pause. “’hardened’ to the ways of men with brutal fetishes.” Malik vaguely heard a pin drop elsewhere in the bureau. His eyes started to sting he was staring at the idiot novice so hard. 

“I meant an ex-prosti-“  
“I know exactly what you meant! Allah damns your twisted mind! If I wished for such intimacy with something so infested with disease, I would have mad sweet love to a half-rotten goat carcass!” Malik throws his quill across the desk and ignores how it drifts harmlessly to the ground, though Altair looks upon the weak attempt of an attack with amusement.   
“The goat carcass would not have been able to tell you to be softer, to stop, though, would it..?” A brief curl of his lips made Malik long for a very large structural collapse, right above Altair’s head.   
“It would also not talk to me, long for my approval and stare at me with eyes begging for a single scrap of my attention, unlike some.” His eyes drifted up from his map to pin point Altair, before flicking back down.   
“Then I will go and slaughter you a goat, leave it in the sun whilst I complete my investigation, then return with it. I do hope the constant vibrations of the flies and maggots within its bowels satisfy your needs.”  
“You are a sick and twisted individual. How you have tricked Al Mualim into thinking you’re the best of the best, I will never know. Get out.” Malik snarled from his desk, head bowed and new quill still soaking up ink. As though hearing the gentle click of Altair opening his jaw and lips to speak a comeback, the rafiq raised his hand and hissed a quiet warning. “If you do not leave, I will send Al Mualim a bird telling him that you have been mating with camels.”  
“He will not believe you.”  
“Your reputation will be tarnished whether he believes me or not. Leave.”  
“Fine.” With a quiet strain, Altair pulled himself up and out of the bureau via the fountain, out through the sliding lattice. He flashed Malik a toothy grin, who had followed into the garden to make sure Altair was truly leaving. “I will return with a surprise for you none-the-less.”  
“My heart flutters with anticipation, brother.” Malik bit back, his hand resting on his hip and watching Altair with expectation. That feeling was granted as Altair pulled the lattice back into the latch and took off across the gritty rooftops of Jerusalem, ignoring the screaming children and animals screeching from the bazaar below. 

Malik had been working in silence most of the night, refusing sleep. Refusing to succumb to the dark dreams that thrust him into pain he wished was long forgotten. Phantom pain, physical pain, emotional pain, all of it tore through him and forced him bolt-upright in bed, gasping and pretending the thin curtain of his quarters was enough to deafen his heavy breathing. Let Altair think he was in the midst of self-exploration, as long as he didn’t look down upon him for having nightmares like a tiny child. Malik shook the thoughts away and turned his attention back to the map. Nothing had really changed since he started, just a whole load of pressing fresh ink into faded-lines. The map was only here for a re-touch. Acre had never looked so boring to Malik after gazing upon the map of its rich district for the past 2 weeks. He suddenly became very aware of a pressure at his left temple. It spread down his cheek to his jaw, causing it to clench, then to his lips as he licked them.

 

“Altair, you have returned.” He announced once he recognised the ominous feeling of Altair’s eyes boring into his skull. “As subtle as ever, I suppose.” He added as he finally lifted his head to meet Altair’s eyes.   
Something suddenly felt very wrong when those amber eyes focused back into his own deep brown ones. Every movement from then on was on instinct. He lifted his now completely numb backside off his wooden stool and swayed his hip around the side of the desk to enter the main area of his bureau. Now completely opposite the man, he could run his eyes over the length of Altair’s body. The hardened muscle of his arms strained against the fabric of his sleeves, his broad shoulders stiff and shaking slightly and dropping his eyes lower…   
“You are sick.”  
Malik’s attention was ripped back up to Altair’s face, trying to find those amber eyes beneath the hood again.   
“Excuse me..?”   
“You are sick. Your sexual preferences are not what the brotherhood teaches. You are sick in the head.” Altair sounded pained. But where was this coming from, why was Altair suddenly standing before him, insulting him like he had every right to do so? Had Altair not known it was a joke before?  
“Novice, I am very certain you took the whole goat-carcass-fucking thing as a joke before, which is exactly what it was-”  
“Men!” Well that narrowed it right the fuck down. “You wish for the roughness of a man, a man who can take the brute strength of another like no woman can- I know that’s what you meant now! But these practices, these are wrong!”  
“How dare you!?” Malik found himself bellowing before he could cover his mouth. “You tear through the throats of men every day with your hidden blade; you commit the worst of sins and take men and probably women from their families! What harm do I commit when I wish for satisfaction with another man consenting to the act!?”  
“Al Mualim tells me otherwise.” A thick silence suddenly fell through the ceiling, crashed across the two men and filled every last fucking corner of the room. Malik let his eyes blow wide at the mere mention of their Master knowing about his preferences. Anger boiled at the back of his head, before he clenched his fist tight.   
“You had no right!” He roared as he lunged forward and slammed his fist into the collarbone of the assassin before him, causing the assassin to choke on his breath and stagger against the wall.   
“M-Malik-oof!” The younger man felt his throat close as the de-commissioned assassin grabbed his head by the hood and brought him down with such ferocity against his knee that he could practically feel his brain bounce against the insides of his skull and press against the back of his eyes.   
“Kos okht ile nafadak!” Malik screamed at the assassin as he watched the other slide back against the wall, down into the pillows and spit blood to the side. “Kelbeh!” The snarl Altair felt bubble in his throat at the insult was unleashed as his hair was grabbed tightly by the one hand and his head forced to turn up towards the infuriated rafiq.   
“You will suffer for what you’re about to put me throu-!”  
“I went to the Master for my own confused preferences! Not yours!” Altair suddenly let the words spill from his lips so fast it took a while for Malik to fully register what they meant. His grip on Altair’s hair slackened, before his hand fell away from his head completely. A short step back was the only sign of regret Altair was going to receive for the time being, he knew that, so pressed the side of his hand to his nose to help staunch the blood as the silence was drawn out.  
“… Confused…” Malik muttered as he stared at the brick work over Altair’s head. His eyes followed the cascade of ivy before the white material of Altair’s hood interrupted his flowing gaze. “You are…”  
Altair’s head jolted up sharply and levelled Malik with a sharp glare.   
“I am what, Malik?”   
“You judged me and yet you are the same! You sicken me.” The rafiq stepped back again, before turning on his heel and walking off to his personal quarters, throwing the curtain aside like it was the source of his pounding headache. Altair felt the argument was expected to be continued, floating around like a bad smell in the garden area. He finally got up after cleaning his bloodied face on one of Malik’s best pillows, his hunger for revenge sated from the small rebellion. His robes kicked up as he hurried across the bureau with a determined pace, shoving the abused curtain with just as much anger as the owner did before.   
“Now you listen to me-!” Altair swallowed, not expecting to find Malik in such a state of undress, thumb in the hem of his breeches, breeches half way down his arse and muscles bunched in what seemed to be shock. It took a while for the assassin to moisten his suddenly dry lips and throat before he continued. “I do not wish to see you put in danger for your preferences.”  
“Danger,” Malik laughed. “I am an assassin, with or without my left arm! Do you see any deterioration in my body since we trained together as assassins in arms?” Malik’s eyebrow shot up as he turned, presenting himself like a fine cut of meat at market to the assassin lingering in the doorway. Altair felt a stab of delight burn in his chest, before he levelled his gaze back onto Malik.   
“No.” He answered truthfully. True, Malik’s left arm had be removed to a blunt stump just above where his elbow should have been (Should have been – Altair damned himself) but all the power from the missing arm had been transferred into Malik’s right arm. His chest muscles rippled beneath the skin as he climbed into bed, before it disappeared beneath the sheets. Shit. Why was he watching all this with such fascinating detail? Altair tore his eyes away and found an amazing little crack on the ceiling to draw his attention.   
“Then I do not see what danger you refer to, novice. If you have such experience of the danger Al Mualim has drilled into your head, please tell me.” Malik huffed, voice buried partially in his cushions. For what felt like the hundred and tenth time that night, a silence descended on the two. Altair allowed his eyes to trail back down to the, now most certainly naked, rafiq under the sheets. As if on cue, he turned over in the cot, eyes meeting Altair’s through the dark. Altair met his stare and unclenched his fists, feeling the leather bite into his knuckles. A sigh escaped Malik’s lips.   
“Come.” He whispered as he lifted the sheets, inviting the young Master assassin into his cot with only a touch of hesitance. Altair knew better than to push away such an act of open acceptance when he had been rejected of it from everyone around him for as long as he could remember. The expectancy in the rafiq’s eyes was focused entirely on him. Altair felt his own hands slide up his chest to unbuckle his scimitar from his back. Malik continued to watch, though his body shift into an upright position, leaning his arm over his drawn up knees. Altair had to wonder what he was hiding in such a position as he continued to shed his clothing. His hood fell to the floor and he almost missed Malik’s next word over the clattering of steel against the solid stone floor as his sword dropped with his waist armour.   
“Slower.”   
Well fuck; this had gotten a whole lot more intimate than he hoped for. Eye contact still an on-going thing, Altair steadied his shaking hands and forced them to keep moving as they slipped beneath his robes, pulling them up over his head and stretching his muscles out in some attempt to show off to the rafiq in the cot. 

No shame.

That’s exactly what went through Altair’s mind when he heard a soft groan slip from Malik’s lips. His eyes fell back on the older man once his tunic and undershirt hit the floor with a thump. Hand down under the covers, a soft rhythm causing the tendons of his arm to appear and disappear. Oh Allah, what a reaction he had caused in the rafiq from just taking his robes off. But…

“This is sick…” Altair muttered before he could stop himself.

“Then let us suffer this disease together.” Malik shot back breathlessly. Altair noticed his hand trail back up from between his legs, over the covers and wander over to a small chest beside the bed. “I will not tell you a third time. Come here.” Again the covers were lifted, this time by his knee as his only hand was busy searching for something blindly in the chest. Altair gave it a curious glance, before his thumbs sank home into his breeches and shoved them down to his ankles. Malik’s breath hitched in his throat, his searching hand halting as a thought was shared between them unknowingly. If Malik had his other arm, his hand would have squeezed his aching erection at the sight of a half-mast shaft, as if to force it to full hardness from sheer will alone. Altair felt his chest tighten as he bear witness to Malik’s eyes dilating from lust. 

When had this gone from friends sharing a bed in hopes of comforting the other, to a full blown fuck party? Altair didn’t know. He was still feeling the effects of Malik’s knee cracking against his cheek bone and he wasn’t sure if this was some concussed hallucination or a sick dream he’d awake from hard and sticky. He didn’t feel like having to stick his hand in his mouth and rubbing one out in a haystack. Again. 

Finally, Altair stepped out of his breeches and closer to the bed. “You said to go slow.” He whispered, letting his callused fingers glide up the cot and across the sheets to where a foot-shaped lump disrupted his path. “I will do as I am told by those higher than me.” The long groan this pulled from Malik’s throat was enough to leave Altair smirking wickedly.   
“Finally you have the sense about you to do as you are told.” Malik’s hoarse voice echoed across the silent room as Altair slowly sank down onto the bed opposite him. It took a few seconds before Malik realised the hesitance in the lighter skinned assassin’s body language. Tense shoulders, narrow pupils, mouth pressed into a firm line and hands clenching like eagle talons into his naked, strong, thighs. 

“Altair…” Malik leaned forward and grabbed the assassin’s chin, forcing Altair to look at him again. It was a slightly harsh act, but he never doubted Altair could take such behaviour. “As much as I love and respect our Master, he is wrong about us and our preferences.” Even as he spoke, Altair’s cock was flagging. He had a feeling it was just the mere mention of their Master than had Altair suffering cock block. Feeling confident, Malik leant forward and grasped Altair by the almost completely flaccid manhood.   
“He is wrong because it does not weaken us. It strengthens us.” A firm squeeze had Altair sitting upright, eyes shooting up to the ceiling. “Look at you. You are still human underneath all those robes and weapons. You still have needs…” Altair felt himself being studied like a thing of beauty by Malik’s lustful eyes. He couldn’t deny his needs. He couldn’t deny Malik’s needs either, he quickly realised. He racked his eyes over Malik’s frame, heat stirring down below again at the black hair trailing down his strong, toned stomach muscles and pooling around the base of his hardened cock, the head of which pointed to him as Malik leant forward to attend to his reawakening libido.   
Altair then let his eyes wander down to the sheets coiled around Malik’s left leg. There, resting in the twist of the sheets, a pot of what looked to be thick oil sat open for whatever use it was about to be needed in. Before he could question what it was for, Malik pushed him down against the bed and pulled himself up over his body with all the strength in his right arm. Legs parted, Altair stared up to the man he could remember playing in the mud around the river surrounding Masyaf as a boy. Covered in the sloppy, wet dirt, throwing mud balls at each other and wrestling so vigorously, they were washing the mud from their bodies for days. Altair closed his eyes for a few seconds as he forced his throat to swallow, lips parting and brows knitting together.

“Malik…” He sighed as he felt a single hand glide over his cheek, up into his hair. A knot formed in his stomach, something akin to warmth, but not from lust. It was something far deeper, something he wasn’t about to think about. Malik seemed to acknowledge his name as the back of his knuckles brushed down Altair’s scarred lips. 

“What is it Altair, what do you need..?” Malik sighed as he leant down, mouth remaining partially open as his lips hovered just above Altair’s, waiting to feel as well as hear the next words from the assassin. Altair, his eyes cracking open to look upon Malik so close, let his hand trace very carefully up Malik’s left side. Attentively, the callused tips of his fingers ghosted over the stump of Malik’s left arm. A brisk shiver of … something left Malik pushing up over Altair, forcing his hips against Altair’s and grinding their cocks together without fear. Arching up, mouth opening and eyes rolling back, Altair scrambled to find purchase against Malik’s back, to push him away and knock him into next year for his brashness, or to pull him closer, lucky for Malik, it was the latter urge that won out. 

“Gahba!” Altair couldn’t help the insult slipping from his lips as the pleasure and shock drove through him like an arrow. “Ah, Malik, that went straight between my balls.”  
“’That’ being my cock, I assume, or the pleasure..?” Malik’s mouth pulled into a smirk as he leant his weight onto his stump and ran his finger down to one of Altair’s nipples.   
“Both.” Altair sighed against Malik’s lips, then, like a knife had been plunged into his back, Altair arched and let loose a moan that would have shamed even the most vocal whores in Jerusalem. Malik slowly pulled his fingers away from Altair’s well abused nipple, before holding the assassin’s face to make him look up into his eyes.   
“I won’t do anything you disagree with.” He spoke softly, as if speaking with a skittish deer.   
“Suck me.” Altair ground out and snaked his hand out to the pot of thick oil. “I don’t want to flag as I’m doing this to myself. So use that mouth for something other than snarky remarks and put that sharp tongue to better work.” Though Altair meant every word as an insult, Malik replied with a grin and quirk of his eyebrows. A sharp swallow quickly followed the thought that, fuck, he’d never seen Malik like this before. They’d never touched like this FOR this, sure there had been wrestling matches, there had always been this heat in his gut when Malik used to crawl into his bed beside him after a tough day with the other novices trying to beat up his little brother- Altair squeezed his eyes shut at that painful thought and brought a hand to his face. He pressed his fingers into his eyes and tried to will the memory of Kadar into the bowels of whatever storage system Altair had for such thoughts. Malik, who was making his way slowly down, leaving behind a trail of kisses, came to realise there was something wrong when he came to kiss the head of Altair’s erection that had previously been there, but now had flagged completely to rest on his right thigh.

Altair felt his jaw pop as he clenched it tightly, feeling Malik’s eyes on him, and not just on his dick, but also studying his painful expression. “Are you having trouble, Altair?” His gentle voice was followed by a hand softly pushing the hair from his face and sweeping it to the side. “It is fine that you are having trouble maintaining erection, its normal for-”  
“Suck my dick before I suck it myself, Malik!” Altair snarled, his arm planted across his eyes to block out that pitying, sympathetic look he was sure Malik was giving him. There was a massive silence, heavy, and thick, uncomfortable and down-right awkward. He was expecting a growl, a shove, an insult or a bloody good hiding for being so forceful and rude… But Malik simply let out a sigh and held the flaccid penis in the palm of his hand.   
“Can you even bend over that far to suck your own cock? If so, I would like to see it.” Malik let out a soft chuckle, before sinking back down against Altair’s warmth. A worried expression crossed his features once he was hidden from Altair’s sight, before he pushed his hips forward and softly grind against Altair’s crotch.   
“Are you alright..?” He finally whispered, tone heavy with concern.   
“Stop treating me like a woman. I thought you wished for a brutal fuck, not a soppy sack of lovey dovey bull shit.” The fierce tone had Malik pulling back, no longer hiding his previous expression of worry.   
“You do not usually swear so much… But you usually swear when you are hiding things from me and-” The most unmanly squeal erupted from Malik as Altair literally tackled Malik off the cot and into a tangle of blankets on the floor before sliding back and shoving Malik’s cock so deep into his mouth, he not only choked, but almost gagged up his dinner of bread and dates.   
“Khara!” Malik cried as he resisted the urge to buck frantically into the mouth of the man who had just undressed like a whore in front of him. Slowly, Altair found a depth he could comfortably manoeuvre his tongue in. The fleshy muscle ran around the head, before he sank down and dipped it into the slit, causing a shudder to burst forth of Malik. He almost missed the moment Altair’s hand slid up onto the bed, dug into the oil-filled pot and dragged his fingers dripping oil back onto the bed, panting and moaning around Malik’s throbbing cock.  
“W-wait, Altair-” Malik gasped as Altair’s fingers slid down his hip and closed in on his entrance, before they moved away from his body completely and out of view behind Altair. He was preparing himself.   
“Oh God you whore…” Malik breathed into the stifling heat of the room, head falling back against the stone floor, his right leg still propped up onto the bed whilst his left slid over Altair’s shoulder and pulled him closer to his groin. He almost screamed in agony when Altair pulled back from his cock for whatever reason. Malik forcefully tugged his arm from his eyes and lifted his head to glare Altair down, but couldn’t find it in himself when he saw the pleasure stretched across his face, his mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut as his wrist flexed behind him and hammered home inside of his body. Malik’s cock almost burst with baby gravy at just the sight, but his hand was quick to grab at his base and force his climax back down. 

“Oh Malik…” A twitch in his cheek and he clenched tighter at his base. “Oh Malik, it feels so good.”  
“… Good…” Malik croaked, hand clenching his base so hard, he thought his cock would spurt blood with how angry it looked. Or fire. Probably blood though.   
“I wonder if this is how women feel when- … so full…” Yep. Malik comes back down from nearly blowing his load so fast, he feels his cock flag a little from the mental image of Altair fucking a woman and wondering how it felt to be filled like that. Fortunately, he can feel himself twitch up to attention as Altair crawls forward like a panther crossing the jungle floor, stalking upon what it wants, what it needs. Oh fuck. Malik steals himself. This is it; it’s finally going to happen. Malik reaches out to Altair and waits for him to straddle him and ride him like a bucking horse. But Altair simply smirks and slips down to lay beside Malik.   
“You expect me to do all the work?” Altair chuckles and runs his finger down Malik’s left arm, following the scarring to his shoulder and around his neck. “I have already worked myself open for you… Please…” He doesn’t finish his plea as Malik is already up and over him, dick in hand and leading it into the man beneath him.   
“Oh fuuuuck-” The rafiq gasps, rocking into this heat as Altair tenses in what he hopes is just from the shock of pleasure and nothing negative. He lowers his head, trying to hide the bliss on his face. “Everything is alright for you?” Malik pants and stills his hips barely. He watched a bead of sweat slide down Altair’s neck, pool into his collarbone and the inhale force it over his shoulder and into the sheets. Such… attention to detail, such beauty… Malik reached forward and clasped Altair’s cheek as he started a rougher pace, feeling the assassin below him writhe and gasp at the brutal tempo. Resting his forehead to the others, he inhaled on Altair’s exhale, drowning in the man he was certain he had been drowning for the better part of 15 minutes.   
“Malik..!” He heard the assassin cry, but was too far gone in his own pleasure to know his name was being called to stop him from biting so hard into Altair’s shoulder. Malik moved on to leave a large love-bite/bruise on Altair’s neck, huffing and slamming his hips forward in pleasure. “M-Malik! Y-yes! Ah fuck- harder!” Harder? Malik winced. He was pretty sure he was already close to tearing his own cock off with how hard his was going, but regardless, he did as he was told and buried himself as far as he could go at a strength that could only be described as painful for both parties. But Altair squirmed beneath him like heaven had touched him in the sweet spot. Ah.   
“Right there..!” He cried, head slamming back against the floor as his body arched and squirmed in a snake-like rhythm. “Right there, oh God, you are buried so deep!” Finally, there was the approval that this was enough. Thank Allah. Malik let out a silent gasp as he remembered his own pleasure, feeling it tearing and coiling and making his fingers go numb as he grasped at Altair’s hip and choked back a sob of overwhelming satisfaction.   
“S-scream my name- I want to hear the women of the street gossip about th-this for fucking years.” He rasped, grabbing Altair’s hair with his hand and leaning all his weight on his stump as he roughly bites at Altair’s neck, making sure to leave the most obvious mark ever. Consequences be damned. The assassin arched further and pressed back into Malik’s thrusts, his cries and pleas getting louder as he approached what seemed to be a crisis. Malik was afraid he had genuinely hurt Altair, but with a furtive glance, he saw no blood on the sheets or on his manhood. A sigh of relief escaped him. Then, there was a crack and he shot his head over to the bed. Altair’s hand was clenched so tightly to the frame of his cot that the wood had started to splinter in his grip. Malik decided to treat the splinters and bloodied mess later, he was too busy. Reality could kindly fuck off for the last few minutes of their love making. 

“Malik- I’m-!!” Altair turned to look up to Malik, his desperation evident on his face as he looked head-on into the eyes of the man dead-set on splitting him in two on his dick. But he had asked for it, so there was no reason to be a baby about it. “Malik, please..! T-touch m-me..!” Altair had the sensibility to blush when Malik scowled down at him, his only arm pressed against the wall above them so he could give the hardest thrusts he could, his stump hanging uselessly to his side. Altair decided he would not be getting such desires today, instead, he snaked his hand down to himself and started to rub his cock furiously to keep pace with Malik’s thrusts. He felt that tight spring coiling tighter, tighter. So damn tight! 

“I-I- oh Allah damns your tight ass!” Malik hissed as he slouched over Altair, hips faltering and losing rhythm as he slammed them harder into the man below him. “You are temptation in form- you fucking novice!” He gasped as his end slammed into him with the weight of the world behind it. Throwing back his head and screaming out Altair’s name, he made sure to release right against Altair’s prostate, making doubly sure to continue bucking at the same strength as he felt Altair tightening and contracting around him, forcing another, slightly less dramatic orgasm from his body. “O-oh Allah- Oh Altair, p-please…  
Altair suddenly found himself filled with another man’s come, hands up against the wall over him and using his strength and buck back against the man’s faltering thrusting. Suddenly, and without any build up, white flared brightly in his vision and forced his mouth wide open in a silent scream as his eyes rolled back and his come sprayed with abandon, as if trying to find an egg to impregnate on Malik’s chest.

There was a long silence as they peeled themselves apart, a soft whine escaping Altair as Malik pulled himself free of his relaxed entrance. “Sorry…” He muttered under his breath, reaching for the oil to scoop some onto his fingers. Altair jumped at oily fingers stroking tenderly at his entrance, as if apologising for being a so rough. But he was a man! He could take this. He just hoped he’d get his breath back before he was forced to face the pain in his arse. 

Malik smiled down upon the assassin slumped on the floor, off the side of his bed like a discarded doll. Malik cursed himself for that description. Discarded..? No… Never… Not again. Sliding his arm around Altair’s waist, he pulled them both onto the bed and kissed the assassin on the forehead. Not the lips… Not on his neck… He wanted it to be loving, meaningful… Altair’s eyes fluttered open at the gesture, remembering the times Malik would kiss Kadar’s forehead and no matter how much the thought cut through his heart like a rusty scimitar, he couldn’t help but smile and graciously accept this rare gesture of … what… love..? 

“We have an option. The one thing we own is our minds. We all make mistakes; we must live with them… But our sexual preferences are our own decisions… Don’t let the Master tell you what is good and what is bad…” Malik sank down completely against Altair, his hand running down his come splattered chest. “I will never look upon this night as a mistake…” A soft kiss to the forehead again, then to the nose, then to his lips.

Altair felt himself opening up to the loving gestures after being initially scared by them. His lips pushed back gently against the kiss planted to his lips, before his arm snaked around Malik’s neck, pulling him closer and burying his nose into the pitch black mess of hair. 

A small noise of denial escaped his lips when Malik pulled away. “Your release is uncomfortable when dry.” He whispered as if to retain the relaxed silence. Altair watched the man get to his feet, a smirk tugging his lips as Malik reached down to a cloth, moistened it in a fountain and started to wash himself down. The Assassin reached out and grabbed his hand, startling the Rafiq to stop.

“Slower.” Altair whispered, looking upon Malik’s actions with deep interest.  
“Slower.” Malik smiled and slowed the cleansing of his skin.

Slower…


End file.
